But this sophisticated woman walking in has made my breath vanish, my heart skip a beat, and my libido ping at the top of the fucking libido chart.
She's reclaimed control of her messy bun. Not a strand is out of place. It sits on her head as if it were a crown. She glides across the floor to me like royalty. Head proudly held high. Elegance and grace at her fingertips. Her posture is perfect. Put a book on her head, and it wouldn't teeter.
Compelled by her beauty, I stand.
She smiles, apparently pleased by my stunned silence. "You asked to see me?"
"Yes, have a seat, please."
She sits and crosses her legs with her hands folded in her lap.
She is going to intimidate every female in my organization. And Janet? Ha! She won't know what the hell to do with her.
I clear my throat. "I'm confident you will handle the organizational skills without a hitch. However, given our brief history, out of respect, I'm sure you have a lot of questions," I nod to her. "Fire away."
She points to the portrait on the wall behind me. "Precious Kitty, I presume?"
"Yes."
"Your pet?"
"Yes. She's been with me for a little over a year now."
"Gift? Pick of the litter?"
"Stray."
"Elaborate."
"Abandoned in the alleyway. Half-starved, terrified, and caught in a downpour with nowhere to hide. Scooped her up and brought her home."
"Hmm," her eyes narrow. Then her lips press together in a thin line. "You don't strike me as compassionate."
I laugh, "Good."
She smirks, "Tell me the history of PKP."
I give her a quick rundown of inheriting a failing publishing house and how I turned it around. "I fired brutally. Hired ruthlessly. Sex sells, and women read their porn. So, I focused exclusively on romance. Added the ability to physically experience sexual stimulation in conjunction with reading the fantasy of the plot. Boom! Billionaire."
"Married?"
I frown. "You do remember our hooking up, right?"
She nods, "Just checking. Siblings?"
"No."
"Why a male P. A.?"
I look away. "Two reasons. One, I don't hold back. I say what I mean, and I mean what I say. I don't care if feelings get hurt. Guys, generally, aren't offended. Girls usually are. They don't get that it's not personal. It's business. When I said earlier for you to get a condom for your heart because I'm going to fuck your feelings, you should. I'm not a nice guy."
"Hmm, I don't carry condoms. Remember?"
Fuck! Do I ever!
She smiles, "But I don't wear my feelings on my shoulder either. I'll treat every filthy, foul word out of your mouth as masculine honesty. Deal?"
"Deal." Damn, her smile is going to be the end of me.
